Unmasking the Truth: Nurses’ Untold Stories of Burnout and PPE Shortages During the Pandemic
A Candid Examination of Frontline Challenges and Systemic Failures Amid the Pandemic
Introduction: The Unseen Battles of Frontline Nurses During COVID-19
The COVID-19 pandemic pushed nurses across North America to the brink: emotionally, physically, and mentally. As frontline healthcare workers, nurses were exposed to high viral loads while working under constantly changing PPE protocols, unclear infection control measures, and ongoing supply shortages. Nurse burnout, moral injury, and trauma became the norm during a crisis that was anything but controlled, despite public messaging to the contrary.
As a nurse who lived through SARS in 2003, I didn’t expect history to repeat itself so chaotically. During SARS-CoV-1, we wore full PPE like fit-tested N95s, hazmat suits, goggles, and gloves for every patient, even without definitive proof of airborne spread. That virus was deadlier but less contagious. Fast forward to COVID-19, a more transmissible virus that mostly threatened immunocompromised and high-risk patients with co-morbidities, and nurses were suddenly told to reuse N95s for days and forget the hazmat suits altogether. The contrast was jarring and dangerous.
During the 2020 SARS-CoV-2 pandemic, the media and government often portrayed nurses as heroes and reassured the public that there was enough protective gear and support. But on the ground, nurses were dealing with serious PPE shortages, makeshift reuse policies, and confusing guidelines that sometimes went against what we already knew about infection control.
This article looks at what nurses experienced during the height of the pandemic, especially the strange and often conflicting PPE protocols. It also covers the emotional toll the crisis took on nurses. Then it follows how morale and staffing patterns changed after vaccines were rolled out, touching on the impact of vaccine mandates, burnout, and staff shortages. You’ll hear firsthand stories, see what the research shows, and get a clearer picture of the gap between what officials said and what nurses actually lived through. It also shows how all of this continues to shape the nursing profession today.
Evolving PPE Protocols: Adaptations and Challenges Faced by Nurses
Reusing N95 Masks: Safety Concerns and Practical Solutions
At the start of the pandemic, nurses were asked to do the unthinkable: reuse disposable N95 masks for days or weeks. Under normal infection control standards, an N95 is single-use and discarded after every patient. But with PPE in short supply, hospitals implemented “extended use” policies. Nurses were given plastic Tupperware containers or paper bags to store their N95 masks between shifts, to be worn again and again. Jill Tobin, an emergency room nurse in California, described an “unwelcome daily ritual” of dipping her face into a Tupperware tub to don and doff the same N95, careful not to touch the 50% front. “If you had told me I would be reusing N95 masks before the coronavirus, I would’ve laughed… The methods we’re using are not scientific,” Tobin said. For many nurses, these changes clashed with everything we were taught and about infection control and raised serious doubts about safety.
To make reused masks last, hospitals tried different ways to so they could be reused. One method that caught on was using vaporized hydrogen peroxide to sterilize them. But nurses had doubts, and for good reason. The largest U.S. nurses’ union, National Nurses United (NNU), said there was “no validated, scientific evidence” proving that disinfecting and reusing N95s was safe. NNU also warned that hydrogen peroxide vapor could damage the mask’s material and leave behind toxic residue, making the masks potentially to breathe through.
Despite these warnings, many facilities — facing dire shortages — proceeded to reprocess N95 respirators with hydrogen peroxide or UV light. This situation highlighted the bizarre contradictions nurses had to deal with. Official guidance said the methods were effective, but on the floor, nurses felt like they were being forced to rely on compromised gear because new, single-use masks just weren’t available.
Removal of Shoe Covers and Changes in PPE Guidelines
As, mentioned, at the start of the pandemic, many people assumed caring for COVID-19 patients would involve full protective suits, similar to what was used during Ebola outbreaks, with full coveralls, boot covers, and more. That’s what the media showed us in early footage coming out of China. But infection control guidelines shifted quickly in North America, largely due to supply shortages. Much of the world’s PPE supply had been manufactured in China for years, and disruptions hit hard.
One noticeable change was the quiet removal of shoe covers, or “booties,” from the list of required PPE. Early on, some hospitals gave shoe covers to nurses working in COVID units. But as PPE supplies ran low, the CDC announced that shoe covers weren’t necessary for routine COVID patient care. The reasoning was based on practicality. Shoe covers were to be saved for cases involving large amounts of bodily fluids, and they were becoming harder to find. The explanation was that SARS-CoV-2 spreads mainly through respiratory droplets and aerosols, not through floor contact. In fact, removing contaminated booties improperly could actually increase risk.
Still, for nurses who had been trained with stricter protocols, walking into a COVID room without anything covering their shoes felt off. Some described how strange it was to be fully geared up with an N95, face shield, gown, and gloves, while ankles and shoes were left uncovered, potentially tracking virus back out. This shift in PPE standards pointed to a bigger issue. COVID guidelines often stopped short of full-body coverage. Standard isolation gowns usually end at mid-calf, which meant parts of nurses’ uniform clad legs were left exposed.
In real-world care, many nurses had no choice but to treat infectious patients with uniform pants showing. A national survey found that 72 percent of nurses had worked in these conditions. For those who remembered the early images of healthcare workers in full-body hazmat suits, it felt bizarre. Official messaging said the PPE modifications were based on science and transmission risk. But try explaining that to nurses in the break room with their feet up on ottomans or chairs, especially when you know exactly where those shoes have been.
Navigating PPE Shortages: Improvised Measures and Institutional Responses
As COVID-19 hospitalizations surged, some nurses had it worse. In many areas found themselves with grossly inadequate PPE. In fact, some resorted to makeshift solutions: wearing rain ponchos or garbage bags as gowns. At Mount Sinai West in New York City, for example, nurses posed in after their supply of proper protective gowns ran out. They posted a desperate message: “NO MORE GOWNS… NO MORE MASKS AND REUSING THE DISPOSABLE ONES… NURSES FIGURING IT OUT”. Tragically, an assistant nursing manager at the hospital, Kious Kelly, died of COVID-19 around that time, underscoring the mortal risk nurses faced.
Nurses elsewhere shared similar stories: using bandanas when masks ran out, constructing face shields from office supplies, and so on. In March 2020, nurses in California and New York held protests highlighting PPE shortfalls. One nurse leader reported staff having to reuse the same N95 for five days, calling it a “” not based on science but on lack of supplies. Indeed, N95s are “intended for one-time use” and not designed for multiple patients. Hospital managers often directed staff to reuse PPE not because supplies were gone, but because they were bracing for future shortages.
In March 2020, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) updated its guidance to allow surgical masks as an acceptable alternative to N95 respirators for general bedside patient care, reserving N95 for situations like intubation. As supplies improved, later CDC guidance, such as updates in 2024, reverted to recommending N95 for caring for patients with suspected or confirmed SARS-CoV-2 infection, indicating the March 2020 change was temporary.
This gap between what nurses knew was safe and what they were told to do felt like gaslighting. Some even faced retaliation for speaking up or refusing unsafe assignments. In Santa Monica, California, seven nurses were after refusing to enter COVID patient rooms without N95 respirators. They had only been given standard surgical masks. Cases like this show how nurses were often stuck between official protocols that focused on conserving PPE and their own professional judgment about how to stay safe and care for patients properly.
Respirators and Uncomfortable Gear
As the pandemic wore on, some hospitals did acquire more advanced PPE like powered air-purifying respirators (PAPRs) or other respirator devices to better staff, especially for aerosol-generating procedures. These respirators — often helmet-like hoods with battery-powered airflow — offered higher protection than N95s and were reusable. However, they introduced new challenges. Nurses reported that PAPRs were cumbersome and uncomfortable during long shifts. The devices can be heavy, generate heat, and make communication difficult due to the noise of the blower and the hood barrier. A systematic review found that while PAPR use is associated with less heat stress (cooler breathing) for the wearer, it scores lower on mobility and communication compared to standard N95 masks. Nurses on COVID units described feeling physically exhausted not just from patient care, but from the PPE itself — sweat-soaked under gowns, dehydrated from not taking breaks, with bruises or pressure injuries on their faces from tight masks and goggles. Some joked that the gear was like “running a marathon in a sauna suit.” In one study of intensive care unit staff, common adverse effects of extended PPE use included headaches, skin injuries, chest discomfort, and difficulty breathing. All of this made an already tough job even harder. A critical care nurse in New Jersey recounted how wearing a PAPR for an entire 12-hour shift was “a different kind of torture — you’re safe from COVID, but you’re wiped out by the gear.” Still, many nurses preferred suffering the discomfort of high-level PPE over the anxiety of feeling under-protected. The introduction of these respirators was a double-edged sword: it addressed some safety concerns but added to the physical strain of the work, illustrating another trade-off in the evolving safety protocols.
“Heroes” Without Hazard Pay: The Gap Between Praise and Protection
Throughout 2020, public officials and hospital leaders frequently referred to nurses and other health workers as “heroes.” Lawn signs, social media tributes, and nightly cheers celebrated their dedication. Yet many nurses felt this rhetoric was hollow, or even insulting, given the lack of tangible support.
Despite working in dangerous conditions, most nurses did not receive hazard pay or significant bonuses. In the United States, there was no federal mandate for COVID hazard pay in the private sector, and only sporadic local initiatives. A union representative summarized the situation: “”. Instead of bonus pay or guaranteed sick leave, nurses often got by with their regular wages even as they risked their lives and those of their families.
Some hospitals offered free pizza or thank-you banners, which nurses wryly noted did not pay the bills or keep them safe. Nurses demanded concrete support: “We need hazard pay. We need adequate PPE so we’re not sterilizing and reusing things beyond their intended use,” said Jamie Lucas of the Wisconsin Federation of Nurses. They also called for benefits like childcare assistance and paid leave if they got sick.
In practice, many nurses who fell ill with COVID-19 had to use their or even go , adding financial stress to their health crisis. Meanwhile, some healthcare CEOs were receiving , and hospitals benefited from federal — deepening a sense of injustice among staff. This contradiction between the hero narrative and the reality of being treated as became a flashpoint. In media interviews, nurses expressed frustration that clapping and praise were not matched by action: “Don’t call us heroes and then fail to protect us,” one emergency nurse remarked. The lack of meaningful or staffing relief, despite the obvious hazards, left many nurses feeling undervalued and even betrayed by the system that proclaimed to celebrate them.
The Emotional and Psychological Impact: Burnout and Mental Health Struggles
Nurse Infections and Deaths from COVID-19
The toll COVID-19 took on healthcare workers was massive. Across North America, thousands of nurses were infected on the job, and many lost their lives. While exact numbers are hard to track due to inconsistent reporting, investigations give us a sense of the scale.
In the United States, a year-long journalism project called Lost on the Frontline documented over 3,600 healthcare worker deaths in the first year of the pandemic. About one-third of those were nurses, meaning roughly 1,200 U.S. nurses died between March 2020 and April 2021. That includes both hospital and nursing home staff, and likely a mix of RNs and LPNs.
The numbers are staggering. In that single year, more American nurses died from COVID-19 than the number of firefighters or police officers who typically die in decades of service.
In Canada, the impact was also deeply felt, though smaller in raw numbers. As of January 14, 2022, at least 46 healthcare workers had died from COVID-19. Canada’s smaller population, along with tighter lockdowns and stronger early infection control measures, may have helped reduce occupational exposure.
Globally, the International Council of Nurses estimated that by January 2021, more than 2,200 nurses had died from COVID-related causes; a number that continued to grow as new waves hit country after country.
It’s important to point out that many of these nurses died even though they were taking precautions. That alone shows how heavily exposed and high-risk their roles really were. Studies later found that healthcare workers were more than three times as likely to get COVID-19 compared to the general public during the early waves.
Bedside nurses, those working in direct patient care, faced the highest risk. The Guardian and KHN investigation found that lower-paid staff, including nurses and nursing assistants, were far than physicians. That was linked to longer, more frequent patient contact, limited access to PPE, and the fact that some employers didn’t prioritize these roles for the highest-grade protection early on.
Accidental Exposures with No Infection
One interesting part of the pandemic was that some healthcare workers had high-risk exposure to COVID-19 but never got infected. There were documented cases where PPE failed or protocols slipped, yet the nurse didn’t catch the virus.
One example is Bevin Strickland, a critical care nurse who volunteered in a New York City ICU during the peak of the spring 2020 surge. She recalled a supervisor telling the out-of-state nurses, “Assume you’re going to get COVID.” In the chaos of the ICU, Strickland sometimes pulled her mask down to comfort dying patients so they could see her face and hear her voice. She was convinced she must have gotten infected at some point. But after finishing her assignment, a blood test showed no COVID-19 antibodies in her system. She had somehow avoided infection entirely.
Strickland wasn’t the only one. Across the world, some healthcare workers had repeated, close contact with COVID-positive patients but consistently tested negative. The media started calling them “COVID virgins.” Scientists have started studying these individuals to explore whether there are biological or genetic factors that may have protected them.
Sometimes, accidental exposure didn’t lead to illness. A nurse might realize after the fact that her mask seal was broken during a patient interaction, or she might have experienced a from a COVID-positive patient. Yet, she never got sick. This could come down to luck, such as a low exposure dose, but it also raises the question of whether some people have pre-existing immunity or natural resistance.
Researchers are exploring whether certain individuals carry genetic mutations or unique immune system that protect them from getting infected with SARS-CoV-2. There are examples in medical history that support this kind of resistance. Some people are genetically immune to HIV, for instance. In the case of COVID-19, one hypothesis is that specific genetic variants could interfere with how the virus enters cells, reducing the chance of infection. Another theory is . Prior exposure to other coronaviruses, like those that cause the common cold, may have trained some people’s T-cells to recognize and attack SARS-CoV-2 early on. Immunology studies have even found uninfected healthcare workers with reactive T-cells that could target the virus, possibly due to earlier encounters with cold viruses.
There are anecdotal reports of married couples where one spouse (often also a healthcare worker) contracted COVID-19 but the other, despite caring for them without full precautions, never got sick. Such instances suggest that factors like , specific antibody profiles, or even differences in the cells lining the nose and lungs could influence whether a person gets infected after exposure. It’s a small silver lining that even among the horror stories of HCWs falling ill, there were these perplexing cases of apparent “escape.” Nurses who didn’t contract COVID despite exposure often say they just felt “lucky,” but science may eventually explain how luck was on their side.
Psychological Toll and Job Stress on Nurses
The pandemic’s relentless waves took a severe psychological toll on nurses. The combination of PPE shortages, shifting guidelines, high workload, and personal danger created a perfect storm of stress. Nearly 90% of nurses said in mid-2020 that they were to go to work due to lack of adequate protection. They faced the daily possibility of bringing the virus home to their families.
Many nurses isolated themselves from loved ones, sleeping in garages or hotels to avoid putting their families at risk. That kind of separation took a serious toll on their mental health. Burnout and emotional exhaustion became widespread as the pandemic dragged on. One survey found that by late 2020, 62% of nurses in the U.S. felt regularly out.
Front-line nurses often said they felt like disposable cogs in an broken machine, especially when they were told to reuse gear that might have been contaminated. The moral injury of not being able to give proper care, whether because of short staffing, lack of supplies, or hospital restrictions, weighed heavily on them. One nurse put it plainly: “I have patients coding and I’m the only one there holding their hand because family can’t come. Then I go cry in a supply closet, pull it together, and move to the next room.” Experiences like that were deeply traumatizing.
Contradictory guidelines added to the stress. A critical care nurse in Toronto recalled confusion in the early months: “At first it was full isolation for all; then they said surgical masks were fine unless doing aerosol procedures. We didn’t know what to believe, but we knew the threat was real.” Constantly changing rules forced nurses to adapt on the fly and sometimes argue for their own safety. In some cases, hospital infection control committees shortened isolation periods or even allowed COVID-positive staff to if they were asymptomatic during staffing shortages. Many nurses felt this was unsafe and said it only made their anxiety worse.
Workload intensity skyrocketed during surges. Nurses were often working 12- or 14-hour shifts, several days in a row, with few breaks, in hot and restrictive PPE. In badly hit areas, nurse-to-patient ratios expanded out of safe bounds — e.g., an ICU nurse who typically cares for 1- 2 critical patients found herself caring for 3 or 4, including patients on ventilators, because there simply weren’t enough staff.
Floating and were common: nurses from operating rooms or outpatient clinics were suddenly assigned to COVID wards or ICUs they were not trained for. This created immense stress for those nurses, who had to learn on the job under pressure, and for ICU nurses who now had to supervise others on top of their own duties. Meanwhile, some hospitals paradoxically furloughed nurses in areas like elective surgery due to those services being halted, which seemed nonsensical when other units were desperate for help. The inconsistency: some nurses overworked, others sitting at home unpaid , was a source of frustration and anxiety.
By the end of 2020, surveys were capturing alarming levels of . In one study, 50.8% of nurses reported feeling “emotionally drained” a few times a week or more. About 45% felt burned out frequently, and nearly a third felt “at the end of their rope”. These are signs of . Rates of depression, anxiety, and insomnia among nurses rose sharply.
A cross-sectional study in 2021 found a significant proportion of front-line nurses met criteria for PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) — one U.S. survey observed symptoms in over 60% of nurses screened. Nurses described intrusive memories of patient deaths, nightmares, and a constant sense of dread or hypervigilance. The term “Covid PTSD” entered the lexicon as therapists began treating many healthcare providers.
Another psychological test was the ethical dilemma of rationing care. In overcrowded ICUs, nurses sometimes had to decide how to limited ventilators or beds, or faced situations where, if one patient crashed, they may not have had the resources to save them. This kind of moral distress, where nurses had to make impossible choices or witness care that fell short, leaves lasting emotional scars. Veteran nurses who had worked through natural disasters and mass casualty events said COVID-19 was the worst sustained crisis of their careers.
Support systems for nurses had a hard time keeping up. A lot of hospitals set up “wellness rooms” or offered counseling hotlines, but many nurses didn’t have the time to use them, or felt those options just weren’t enough. So they leaned on each other. Colleagues became like family, offering emotional support and debriefing together after hard shifts. By the end of 2020, though, some nurses started to feel numb. It was a way to cope with constant loss and trauma. That numbness could look like resilience on the outside, but it was also a sign of compassion fatigue, where caregivers start shutting down emotionally just to get through the day.
Post-Vaccine Era: Shifts in Morale, Staffing, and Healthcare Practices
Initial Hope and Ongoing Challenges
The rollout of COVID-19 vaccines to healthcare workers in December 2020 was a huge moment of hope for many nurses. Finally, they had a layer of personal protection against the virus. Vaccination rates among nurses were high overall, though not universal. By mid-2021, most had been vaccinated, which greatly lowered their risk of getting seriously ill. That brought some real relief. The fear of dying from a workplace exposure started to fade for those who were immunized. As one ICU nurse put it, “I finally stopped having a panic attack every time I got the slightest cough, once I was fully vaccinated.”
By spring 2021, PPE shortages had mostly been resolved. N95s and gloves were no longer being rationed in most North American hospitals. With those improvements, you might expect nurse morale to have bounced back. And for a little while, it did. During early 2021, as case numbers dropped, many nurses felt a cautious kind of optimism. It finally seemed like the worst might be behind them.
However, new challenges quickly tempered that optimism. The Delta wave in mid-2021, followed by Omicron later that year, brought fresh surges in hospitalizations, including breakthrough infections. Even vaccinated, nurses found themselves once again facing packed ICUs. It was disheartening. Many had hoped the vaccine rollout would mark the end of the crisis, but instead, they were treating a new wave of mostly unvaccinated COVID patients. This took a toll. Burnout crept back in as many nurses felt like nothing had been learned, and the weight of the pandemic had landed on their shoulders all over again.
Vaccine Mandates: Effects on Nurse Retention and Workplace Dynamics
In 2021, as vaccines became widely available, many hospitals and governments introduced vaccine mandates for healthcare workers. These mandates were controversial for a small number of nurses. The vast majority chose to get vaccinated voluntarily. Global surveys showed around 80 percent acceptance and about 20 percent hesitancy among nurses.
Still, those who were hesitant often felt pressured or backed into a corner by the . After all, many nurses had already made it through the worst months of the pandemic using reused N95s and inconsistent PPE. Some felt that if they hadn’t gotten sick by then, they must have built some level of immunity. One of the most widely covered cases happened at Houston Methodist Hospital, where in June 2021, more than 150 employees, including nurses, either resigned or were fired for the COVID-19 vaccine.
Similar scenarios played out in other hospitals: some staff quit rather than comply, although they were a small fraction of the workforce. For instance, a hospital in upstate New York had to briefly stop delivering babies after a handful of maternity nurses over a vaccine requirement. These incidents got a lot of media attention and fueled the perception of workforce instability.
From a morale standpoint, vaccine mandates had a mixed impact. For many nurses, working in a fully vaccinated environment was a relief. It meant fewer staff outbreaks and less worry about putting vulnerable patients at risk. They saw it as part of their responsibility to do no harm. But for others, especially those who were skeptical of the vaccine or simply frustrated after everything they had already endured, the mandates became a breaking point. Some felt alienated or disrespected by the lack of choice, which led to resentment or even leaving the profession.
The mandates also caused tension within teams. A vaccinated nurse might feel angry at a colleague who refused the shot and wonder, “After everything we went through, how can you not get it?” At the same time, the unvaccinated nurse might feel judged or pushed into a decision they weren’t comfortable with. Overall, the number of nurses who left because of vaccine mandates was relatively small, often just a few percent of staff in most systems. But with burnout already widespread, even a small loss in staffing had a big impact on already overburdened nurses.
Addressing Burnout: Strategies for Recovery and Support
Nurse morale took a sharp downturn after enduring wave after wave of COVID. By 2021 and 2022, surveys and workforce data started to reflect what many already felt on the ground — nurses were leaving. A 2022 nursing workforce report showed that around 100,000 registered nurses in the U.S. had left the profession due to stress, , or retirements over the previous two years.
This was an unprecedented number, roughly equal to wiping out the entire nursing workforce of a few mid-sized states. On top of that, many more nurses reported plans to leave in the near future. The , which oversees nurse licensing in the U.S., projected that almost one-fifth of all nurses nationwide could leave their jobs by 2027 if current trends continue. Notably, the intent to leave was highest among younger nurses (those under 40) and those with under 10 years of experience.
Pay was a factor too. Burnout from pandemic conditions, and staffing shortages were the primary drivers for experienced nurses and Gen Z nurses to re-evaluate their life choices. They transitioned to shortly after the pandemic began for significantly higher short-term pay, or left acute care for outpatient roles with better hours. This staffing churn meant those who remained often had to do even more with fewer hands; a vicious cycle.
In Canada, similar issues arose with nurses quitting or reducing hours, and severe staffing shortages leading to temporary ER closures in some places by 2022. It’s a North America-wide trend: the pandemic accelerated nurse burnout that had been brewing for years. Nurse-to-patient ratios in some hospitals than pre-pandemic norms because of vacancies, and the pressure on remaining staff kept morale low.
Long-Term Mental Health Impact
Even as the crisis atmosphere eased, the mental health impact on nurses didn’t just disappear. Many are still dealing with long-term PTSD, anxiety, and depression. The trauma of 2020 and 2021, including the constant code blues, the Facetime goodbyes between patients and families, and the loss of coworkers, has left a lasting mark.
Mental health professionals report a noticeable rise in nurses seeking therapy for trauma-related symptoms. Some nurses have nightmares about alarms and ventilator sounds. Others say they feel numb or no longer experience joy the way they used to. The term “moral injury” often comes up, as many nurses carry guilt or anger over the care their patients received, whether it was having to ration treatment or being unable to comfort someone in their final moments.
On a positive note, there have been efforts to address these issues. Some hospitals have introduced stronger employee support programs, peer counseling, and resiliency training. Nursing organizations are also working to reduce the stigma around seeking mental health care in the profession.
Still, deeper, systemic changes are needed. Things like adequate staffing, fair work hours, more hourly pay, and safe working conditions are essential if the nursing workforce is going to recover in a meaningful way. The pandemic also pushed many nurses to speak up and demand change from their unions.
It only makes sense for hospitals to take care of nurses, because when you do that, you’re also taking care of patients. We can’t go back to business as usual.
Conclusion: Lessons Learned and Future Directions for Nursing
The COVID-19 pandemic pushed the nursing workforce to its breaking point. Nurses were thrown into chaos, told to follow confusing protocols, and forced to reuse gear that was never meant to be reused. They faced fear, loss, and constant change, all while being praised in public but left without real support. That gap between what was said and what was actually provided caused a deep sense of moral injury.
Even so, nurses kept showing up. Many became advocates for safer conditions and honest communication. Vaccines and improved PPE brought some relief, but the underlying issues such as burnout, mental health strain, and chronic short-staffing still remain.
To prepare for future crises, we need more than applause. Real change means stockpiling PPE, setting clear science-based protocols, providing mental health support, ensuring safe staffing, and treating nurses like the essential professionals they are.
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Read my other articles on Burnout, Bullying, and Toxic Teams: What New Nurses Need to Know in 2025, and Why Companies Keep Bad Managers (Even When Employees Keep Complaining)
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